Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
My heart fucking sank.
And I knew.
All of it.
Everything we’d planned.
All our hope.
Over.
Victor smiled. “That’s not how this works, Peter dear. You’re on clean-up. As always. Only once you’ve done your duty shall I deal with you.”
I almost threw up on my shoes.
Despair howled down the tunnel and pounced.
Every ounce of depression.
Every horror and misery, every desolation and melancholy found me, snatched me, and turned off every flicker of light left inside me.
I would die down here.
We would all die down here.
This wasn’t a procession to whatever game Victor had planned.
It was our funeral march.
And I needed to get on my knees and repent.
To confess and atone so when the time came for my life to end, I might stand a minuscule chance at following Ily into the next life.
Because Peter and her…they’d travel together.
They’d find each other again.
Both of them pure enough to deserve a worthwhile existence.
But me?
Fuck me?
After the things I’d done.
The things I wanted to do.
Twin flame or not…I wouldn’t be allowed to go with her.
Sighing happily, Victor twisted to face the front, pushed Ily between her shoulders, and we were all moving again.
Closer and closer.
Nearer and nearer…
Until finally—
“We’re here,” Victor announced, his voice echoing off stone.
With my heart already turning over in its grave and my skin slick with icy sweat, we all spilled out into a familiar cave.
One with an altar.
A cupboard full of skulls.
And seats for devils to watch.
Chapter Thirty-Five
……………………….
Ily
I DIDN’T SCREAM AS VICTOR snapped his fingers and two guards grabbed me around my arms and legs and plucked me from the ground.
I didn’t scream as they spread me on the stony, icy altar with its grooves for blood and cauldron to catch my essence.
I didn’t scream as heavy, thick straps were tossed over my ankles and buckled down tight.
I didn’t scream as my golden cuffs were tethered onto hooks and my collar snapped into place with a mechanism in the stone, choking me, keeping my head down, my chest exposed, and every part of me ready to be sacrificed.
I didn’t scream.
In this dimension.
But in all the rest?
I screamed and screamed until my soul was hoarse, and every lifetime rippled back.
Tears trickled down my face as my heart cracked and bled.
I’d never see Krish again. Never kiss my mum or hug my dad. I’d never cook with my auntie again or ride my bike to visit my cousin at the local gemstone. I’d never get to kiss Henri again or dance with Peter again or breathe fresh air or see the night sky again.
I had minutes.
Mere minutes.
And I wouldn’t waste them by screaming.
I couldn’t raise my head, but I could turn.
I looked for him.
Needed him.
I shuddered with relief as our eyes touched.
Henri.
God, Henri.
His grey gaze looked like ash. The fire in his soul burned out until nothing but coal and char remained. His skin pulled tight around worn eyes, his mask unable to hide his fear. His mouth so thin and his cheeks so stark, he looked skeletal in the harsh light.
I might live in terror, but he wore it.
Both of us painted forever by horror.
Now I knew why the velvet black capes all the Masters wore looked so familiar.
I’d seen them before.
In the chest where Caishen and I had found the torches and the chipped knife.
The Masters all fanned out around the cave, taking their places on the carved amphitheatre, their black tourmaline masks making them seem like spectres from hell.
Peter stepped stiffly to my side.
He grabbed my hand on the altar and squeezed.
Victor didn’t stop him.
He merely smiled as if all our secrets were exposed, and he took such pleasure in winning.
Henri dropped his stare where Peter held me.
He trembled as if he was moments away from snapping.
I was proud of him.
So fucking proud that he hadn’t lost his temper. Hadn’t revealed himself.
Victor knew Peter and I were up to something, but he hadn’t said anything about Henri.
I sent up a prayer that he didn’t suspect him.
Didn’t know that Henri was as complicit as us.
He would survive.
He has to.
There’d been too much death.
Far, far too much death.
It was over for me.
I knew that as surely as I felt the binds holding me on this altar.
But it wasn’t over for Henri.
He could go on.
Could do what we had failed.
Please don’t give up. I begged with my twin flame-connected heart. Please get them out…somehow.
Henri staggered and came toward me.
No one said a word as he took my other hand, looking at Peter across the table as both men crowded over me and gave me the same heart-wrenching look.
I’m going to get you out of here. Henri’s ashy gaze vowed.
You can’t. I shrugged. Don’t give yourself away.
His lashes snapped closed as if he couldn’t breathe.
He clutched my fingers with agonising pain.
And then, Victor started the countdown on my life.
“Friends, welcome.”
The Masters stopped rustling.
Their breathing quietened.
Even the surf outside seemed to soften.